


I Understand

by Wristic



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 12:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11578068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wristic/pseuds/Wristic
Summary: Whether its five minutes or a few seconds, you and Ivar always dissolve into fights furious enough to shake the walls. Despite that, it’s rare for a certain unspoken line to be crossed. That is until Aslaug locks you two in a room to sort out your near non-existent differences, only to frustrate you both to a boiling point of honesty.





	I Understand

“If you are going to act like children then you will be punished like children.” Aslaug chimed through the door. You yanked on the locked handle, a flash of anger igniting higher when the only other person in the small room with you shouted in an equal fury.

“Mother this is ridiculous! Open the door!”

She was toying with you both, stroking the already double inferno of rage locked safely behind the door. Queen Aslaug always bore a smile in your company, though you weren’t sure why. Not that you two didn’t get along or shared many interests, but whenever you and your family came to visit, Hel broke loose. Something that entertained Aslaug endlessly. But it was a bit strange given it involved her youngest and favored son, you and Ivar spitting venom at each other whenever in the same room for five minutes.

Even now you could hear the smile in her words. “I am going for a walk. Hope you two decide to be well behaved by the time I get back.”

Both you and Ivar called, begging and fighting for a release from each others presence. A silence came waiting for her response and you both slumped realizing she was already gone. In a last fit you kicked the door, crossing your arms pouting and refusing to turn around and face Ivar. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?!” Ivar gaped, “You started this! Just couldn’t keep your fat mouth shut-!”

Bristling you spun around shouting down at him. “You were staring at me! I have every right to tell you to stop being a creep!”

He rolled his eyes, fanning your anger. “So delusional, I was not staring at you!”

“I waited to be sure! You were staring!”

“Not at you!”

“You are such a liar!”

“Why would I stare at a spoiled brat like you!? There isn’t a single pretty thing about you! All you do is glare and bite at everyone!”

“Oh _Ivar the Boneless_ thinks I am _too mean_! What garbage! You attacked your own brother just this morning!”

You two bounced back and forth in a circle argument, accusation upon accusation, screaming in each others faces until you took it a step too far. “The only reason we’re in here is because your mother feels bad for you! Poor little Ivar with no friends!”

That one physically hit him, leaning back before snapping, “You take that back!”

“Take what back!? The truth!? You know my father told me she actually wants me to-!

Your ankle was ripped out from under you, sending you sailing to the floor. It took you a moment to catch your breath before being thrust into a fight for your life as Ivar crawled up you. You tried beating him back and squirming away, not able to get any leverage as he worked to keep your fists away from him and your own dress confined your legs. “Get off me!”

He grabbed your wrists and slammed them above your head and into the wood floor. The heat that would flush under your skin when you were only screaming at him bloomed throughout your body, seeming eased where his rested on yours. Before you could fight the strange sensation Ivar shouted down at you. “Look I get it alright!?”

You paused, brow faulting in anger and turning to confusion. He seemed hesitant to keep going, rolling his jaw before admitting. “Sigurd told me how you broke your shoulder when you were a child. I was watching the way you kept moving your arm. You’re _always_ moving it. It hurts doesn’t it?” A wave of shame took you not wanting to admit it. You hated people knowing, hated them trying to give you pathetically ignorant advice or grow wounded when you snapped, saying _I doubt it hurts that bad, you can still use it can’t you?_ Use it as you could that didn’t stop the muscles around it from cramping, constantly tensing under the strain of the bone pressing in all the wrong places.

You turned away, unable to answer for yourself, but Ivar insisted. “You don’t want it to but it feels good to hurt other people. Like the only way to be free of the pain is if someone else takes it.” You tensed, and the ache wanted to slip back on your embarrassment.

Even you often lamented you could work harder to be nicer and keep pushing a smile though, but there was something so satisfying about screaming and throwing that pain. For a brief moment the heat of your rage distracted from the aching pain the one old wound caused throughout your body.

Fights with Ivar were the longest the pain could fail.

His grip slipped on your wrists and your hands came down, resting on his chest in a question of should you push him away. The rare empathy in his blue eyes stopped you. Water started in yours as the silence dragged on, the first of it’s kind between you two. You’d been feeding each other in a way nobody could understand. The rage spilled out from yours and his lips taking agony with it, both walking away unaware the other felt relief the rest of the day. It made it so easy to not hang onto a single word the other said because there was this odd sense of gratitude hiding under every attack.

His thumb brushed your cheek, catching the tear as it slipping. “I understand.” He whispered, making another come faster. He leaned close making you want to hide the tears that wouldn’t stop falling and said again, “ _I understand_.” and for the first time you felt someone actually did.

Ivar brought the rest of his body to you, pulling you into him in a tight embrace that had you sobbing into his shoulder.

You felt lips on your burning cheek, feeling them again and again as they rounded your face, lasting on your lips, cold and damp against his. It was soothing both inside and out, the comforting weight of his body and the kiss you found you didn’t want to end.

In a breath you rested your head back to the floor, staring up at him as he gently stroked your heated cheek, seeming to see you in a different light when you should be the more shocked party.

You felt the need to tell him what the rest of your sentence would have been had he not knocked your feet out from under you. That Aslaug had asked your father to set up a marriage between you and him. Your Father had his reasons for wanting to refuse, but couldn’t deny how much the blood of actual royalty would help his Earldom and his claim to it. You had thrown a huge fit obviously, and you were going to use it to humiliate Ivar. 

This close and quiet moment however, this healing after ripping each other apart, it was a pattern you didn’t know existed, and you felt yourself already craving more of it.

When you opened your mouth to admit and apologize, Ivar drowned out your words in an open kiss, one that left your lips wet and warm. When your hands ran through his hair, keeping his mouth against yours as you both tested the waters of tasting each other, your body shifted under his, your legs tensing on his hips making his hands wander and grab at your dress.

Aslaug stared at the closed door, relaxed on the opposite wall the entire time. A small muffled moan from you filter through causing a shining smile to hit her. She didn’t need your fathers alliance. She didn’t need endless shouting that could be heard a street away from her home either.

But she did need Ivar’s peaceful nights sleeping, the politeness that took him after your arguments drained each other of the violent fire that tormented you both. There was a time she hadn’t been so sure to let you near him, especially after the first huge fight so long ago. Aslaug had mistaken his ease afterwards for sulking. Then she caught you two purposely, methodically instigating each other and she started to see some hidden layer to these fights.

Lifting from the wall, she quietly left, rather proud of her work and the lasting silence that finally came to her home.


End file.
